Grounded
by LadyWallace
Summary: Castiel and the Winchesters are on a hunt to locate Lucifer's crypts before Crowley does, but they soon find that the hardest part might be surviving just getting into them. (Katabasis Verse #6)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Guess what, another Katabasis Verse fic! So, I'm going to be posting these chapters every Monday instead of both Monday and Friday to try and build my queue back up, but if I do end up writing a one-shot at some point I will post that on a Friday during the same time :) Hope you guys enjoy!**

Grounded

A Supernatural Fanfic

Chapter One

It was a beautiful dawn in late summer; the air was still slightly cool before the sun brought the heat of the day, and Castiel loved this time the most.

He soared over the forest below, listening to the birds calling out their greeting to the new day. He loved to take the time in the quiet of the morning for his flights. There was always something so enchanting and hopeful about seeing the day dawn. With everything else going on in their lives, Castiel found that taking this time for himself every day really allowed him to clear his mind and rejuvenate fully.

And he had started molting again—it was, after all, the proper time of year to do so—but thankfully this was a natural molt and not nearly as straining as the one he'd gone though after getting out of Hell. And Sam and Dean were making sure he was well taken care of; making sure he ate properly and took his vitamins, and helping him wash his wings if he needed it. They still itched, but now that he knew how to ease that feeling, it was not nearly so bad and he felt in perfect health so he didn't have to worry about a cold on top of everything.

Still, flying wasn't quite as comfortable with the new pin feathers coming through, and he decided to cut his flight short that morning, heading back to Bobby's place.

When he landed in the front yard, he was surprised to see Dean loading bags into the Impala.

"Is there a hunt?" he asked.

Dean shook his head. "Not exactly. Bobby got a call from another hunter who said there was a crap-ton of demonic omens around this place just outside Wichita."

Castiel frowned. "And you think they might have found one of the crypts?"

Dean nodded. "I can't see any other reason that many demons should be in one place. And even if it's not, we need to figure out why they are there." He closed the trunk and glanced at Castiel then. "You good to go?"

Castiel bristled slightly. "I'm molting, I'm not injured; I'll be fine."

"Good, then go pack up, we leave in ten."

In only a few minutes, Castiel had his bag packed and he, Sam and Dean climbed into the Impala with Bobby promising to keep them up to date with any other news. He had to stay and work the phones for the week so he wasn't coming with them.

"But if you need help, call," he said firmly.

"Sure thing, Bobby," Dean promised.

It only took them a few hours to get to their location and they got a motel room for the night, planning on doing some research into the area to see where the most likely place for a crypt would be.

"Maybe it's in an actual crypt," Sam said after a few minutes of nothing.

"Okay, captain obvious," Dean grunted.

Sam made his bitch face. "No, I mean, maybe it's in an actual crypt."

"Actually, Sam may be onto something," Castiel said, as he clicked back through one of the websites he had been looking at. "There is an old graveyard right in the middle of the area of demonic activity. There could be something there."

Sam shrugged. "It actually wouldn't be a bad idea to check it out."

"Yeah, except it's in the middle of the demonic activity," Dean said, clicking on something as he squinted at the screen of his laptop. "And we might have a bigger problem than we thought. Check this out." He turned the laptop around and Castiel and Sam both leaned in to see what he had found.

" _'Victim of animal attack found downtown'_ ," Sam read.

"Second one this week apparently," Dean said grimly.

"You think there might be more than one case here?" Sam asked.

"When is it ever two things in the same place?" Dean grunted, reaching for his cup of coffee to take another sip.

Castiel leaned closer to the screen, reading the article. He had a bad feeling about this, especially when he read that the police suspected a wolf or large dog.

"I think Dean's right; it's possible whatever demons are here brought hellhounds with them."

Castiel watched Dean's face pale slightly and felt terrible for having to bring it up but it was better to be prepared and it seemed the likeliest conclusion to the evidence given. Because Dean was right, when was it ever two things in the same place?

"Friggin' awesome," Dean muttered, obviously putting up a brave front, even though Castiel and Sam both knew he still feared hellhounds more than most things. Having to face them again more recently when they had rescued Castiel from Hell hadn't helped ease that fear at all.

"Okay, well, there's no point in wasting any more time," Sam said and stood to go through his duffle bag. "I'll head down to the police station and see what I can find out about the attacks."

"Great, Cas and I will go check out the graveyards and see if there's anything that screams Lucifer's crypts," Dean said, standing as well.

Sam glanced up from collecting his FBI outfit. "You sure you're good?"

Dean huffed in indignation. "I'm fine, dammit. Cas and I have got this."

"Okay, well, don't go into any crypts without me," Sam pleaded.

"Okay, mom," Dean grunted. "We're just gonna scout it out. I'll call when we find something."

Sam nodded and went to get changed while Dean and Castiel packed up what they would need and left in the Impala, heading toward the nearest old graveyard in the vicinity.

"Who would have thought there would be three old graveyards in one podunk town?" Dean shook his head as he pulled into the parking lot.

"Well, humans do have the habit of dying, Dean, and not all of them come back like you Winchesters," Castiel replied blandly.

Dean narrowed his eyes at his burst of sarcasm and Castiel grunted as he got out of the car. He refrained from itching the center of his back that itched while his wings were incorporeal. It was not particularly comfortable keeping them on the ethereal plane during a molt, but he would make do. Dean cast him a look, noticing his twitching.

"You good?"

Castiel sighed. "Fine." He pulled out the map of the graveyard he had printed out and glanced around. "According to this, there are several mausoleums and crypts over by the back of the cemetery."

"Let's start there then," Dean said and they trudged off.

"I'm not feeling any particularly demonic presences here," Castiel said, looking around. "Several ghosts, as usual, but nothing really dark."

"Well, we'll check it out anyway, make sure to tick all our boxes just in case."

They searched every place in the graveyard that might be a possible place for a secret crypt, but found nothing. And Castiel still didn't sense anything demonic in the area.

"Alright, I think it's time to try the next place," Dean said as they made their way back to the parking lot.

They drove to the next cemetery on the list, but it was also a bust. The only thing they found there was a very annoying, yet seemingly harmless ghost woman who followed them around most of the time they were there, shouting abuse.

"If we had time, I'd salt and burn her bones just on principle," Dean growled.

"Maybe after we finish our job here," Castiel said, scrunching up his nose as he scratched his back where the heat of the day was making sweat cause his shirt to cling to him. Heat made molting far more uncomfortable than anything.

"Stop scratching," Dean snapped and Castiel glared at him.

"Scratching my back will not harm my wings. It's like a phantom itch with them incorporeal like this, and it's infuriating," Castiel growled. Scratching didn't do much to help anyway, and it was making Castiel more and more irritable, only exacerbated by the fact that they hadn't found anything useful.

"Well, let's go check out this last place and see if we can find anything better there. And if that turns out to be a bust too, I guess it's back to square one."

The final graveyard was on the edge of town and the instant they pulled up, Castiel felt a prickle on the back of his neck.

"Dean, I think this might be the place," he said as he glanced around with caution, looking for any sign of demons or perhaps worse, hellhounds.

"Well, let's go check it out, then," Dean said.

They got out of the Impala, their weapons at the ready as they strode off into the graveyard. Castiel hadn't been able to find a map of this graveyard, but he could see several mausoleums in the distance and figured that was the best place to start. The feeling of unease hadn't lessened, but he had yet to see any sign of life here, demonic or otherwise. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or even more worried.

Just then, Dean's phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket, putting it on speaker.

"Hey, what's up?" he greeted.

"Just got done at the coroner's office," Sam's voice came over the line. "The bodies were…they were really torn up. Looked like hellhound to me, and the reports said there were trace elements of sulfur on the bodies when they were brought in."

"Awesome," Dean muttered.

"Where are you?" Sam asked.

"We're at Fenridge Cemetery now," Castiel offered. "We didn't find anything at the others."

"Okay, well, both of these bodies were found near there," Sam said. "I think it's definitely the place. I'm on my way over there now."

Castiel suddenly caught sight of a flash of movement between two gravestones and the hair on the back of his neck rose instantly. "Dean," he said, nudging the hunter's arm and nodding in the direction of the movement.

"Son of a bitch," the hunter grunted. "Yeah, I think it's definitely the place, Sammy."

"What is it? Do you see something?" Sam asked frantically.

"Just get over here," Dean told him and Sam ended the call as Dean and Castiel stood in the middle of the oddly silent graveyard and waited for more signs of movement.

After a few long moments however, Castiel began to wonder whether he had seen anything at all.

Dean huffed. "Let's just go see if we can find the crypt."

Castiel nodded and they started off through the cemetery with the feeling that something was watching them. Castiel kept seeing flashes out of the corner of his eye but never anything in full. He began to hope it was just a ghost, even though his instincts told him that wasn't the case.

"Cas, check this out," Dean said suddenly, pointing forward. "What about that?"

Castiel looked over to see what Dean was pointing at and saw a huge, old mausoleum, cracked and crumbling, covered in ivy and green moss. But it also had sigils carved into the molding around the edges, obviously meant to keep pretty much anything supernatural out.

"It's heavily warded," he said as they approached the building. "I think this must be the place.

"Can you get in?" Dean asked, studying the sigils.

Castiel nodded. "I should be able to, it's mostly warded against demons, but I will probably be completely powerless. I'm sure there's something there to knock out my grace." At least he was getting more used to operating without being at full power.

Dean gripped his blade tighter in one hand and studied the door. "Well, let's go."

"Dean, we should wait for Sam," Castiel cautioned him.

They didn't get the chance to make their decision though. A shadow darted past on Castiel's right, and a growling noise could be heard. Dean spun around, and Castiel thought he saw him instantly break into a cold sweat.

"Cas," he asked in a strangled voice.

Castiel spun around, and saw more shadowy forms gathering. He could smell the sulfur, and see the red eyes glowing with hellfire. Dean obviously couldn't see any of this, and he was panicking, most likely remembering the hounds that had dragged him to Hell.

"Let's back away slowly," Castiel said, gripping Dean's sleeve and pulling him along. Dean stumbled slightly, but moved with Castiel as they slowly eased away, the hellhounds watching them and prowling after them.

"How many are there?" Dean asked.

"At least five that I can see," Castiel said, eyes darting around. "No, six…seven."

"Dammit," Dean muttered.

And then one hound gave a loud bark and surged forward, the others behind it. Castiel swiftly shoved Dean in front of him. "Run!" he screamed.

They ran, but Castiel could already feel the hot breath of the hounds at his back, and he knew they wouldn't be making it back to the parking lot. He pivoted and slashed at the nearest hound with his blade, cutting it deeply across the face and making it stumble, but there were more coming.

Frantic, Castiel did the only thing he could think of and pulled his wings from the ethereal place. Without a second thought, he flapped furiously, and snagged Dean under the arms, kicking off the ground.

"Cas, what the hell?!" Dean cried, instinctively scrambling as his feet left the ground. A hellhound leapt toward them, but Castiel gave a powerful flap of his wings and put them out of the beasts' range.

"Dean, stay still!" Castiel grunted, just trying to keep them both aloft. With Dean's weight, he couldn't sustain flight for long, but if he could at least get them back to the car they may be able to escape.

Dean's fingers dug into his arms, but at least he was still now. Castiel knew he didn't like heights, but it was better than being a hellhound's chew toy.

By the time they got back to the parking lot, Castiel's wings were nearly giving out from the strain of carrying extra weight and he nearly collapsed to the ground, both him and Dean stumbling.

"Warn me next time, Cas!" Dean growled, breathing heavily.

"You're welcome," Castiel said blandly.

A car pulled up and Castiel hurriedly made his wings invisible again, but it was Sam who got out of the car and hurried over to them.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Talk later, get in the car," Dean demanded, as they piled into the Impala. Castiel could already hear the hounds in the distance and when Sam heard the barks and growls, he didn't need to ask again. Dean drove out of there fast and Castiel could see his hands trembling, knuckles white on the wheel.

"I guess you found it," Sam said wryly.

"We did," Castiel replied. "But it's guarded by hellhounds."

"Yeah, no shit," Dean grunted. "How the hell are we going to get into it?"

"Well, first we have to figure out a way to get past the hellhounds," Castiel said obviously. "They're not impossible to kill, the problem is I'm the only one who can see them."

"Yeah, that is a problem," Sam said. "Look, let's just get back to the motel, think about it a little. Maybe Bobby has a spell or something that can help us see them."

"Remind me again why we actually care about Lucifer's crypts anyway?" Dean asked.

"Dean, whatever is in there, we cannot let Crowley get his hands on it," Castiel said firmly. "If Lucifer went through all the trouble to stash things and ward them, then we probably do not want those things getting out. Who knows what could be in there? Heavenly weapons, ancient artifacts that Crowley could use to wreak havoc—this was obviously stuff that Lucifer was planning to use if he won the apocalypse, you really want Crowley to get his hands on that?"

"No, of course not," Dean said angrily. "But we don't have to get dead because of it either. You said it's warded against demons anyway."

"And you know that's not foolproof," Castiel said wryly. "Crowley could hire someone to break in or find some other way to get past the warding."

Dean huffed but didn't say anything else. Castiel could tell he was scared, but he would make sure Sam and Dean were safe. There must be some way humans could be made to see hellhounds without being damned.

They regrouped back at the motel and Sam called Bobby, giving him an update while Dean and Castiel pulled up information about the cemetery and tried to see if there was a better way to get to the mausoleum.

"Yeah, thanks Bobby," Sam said before he hung up the phone. "So, get this, Bobby said he found in an old book, that glass passed through holy fire can allow someone to see hellhounds."

"Glass, like, a mirror?" Castiel asked with a frown, thinking that would be rather unwieldy in a fight.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe, but I was thinking more like glasses."

"Well, it's worth a shot," Dean said. "Anything's better than fighting invisible fuglies."

Sam went to gather the stuff they would need while Dean went to grab food, though none of them were really hungry, thinking about what they would be doing later that night.

They took the glasses Sam and bought out behind the motel and Dean lit a small fire with holy oil that they then passed the two pairs of glasses through. Castiel stayed far back during this procedure. It had still been too soon since Crowley had tried to burn his wings with holy fire for him to want to be anywhere near it.

Dean stamped the fire out with one boot as he looked skeptically at the glasses. "Okay, so how do we know they work?"

"We won't," Sam said, holding the glasses up to his eyes before he stopped, looking just past Castiel. "Or, maybe we do."

Castiel glanced around frantically, trying to see what Sam was seeing. "What are you looking at? Is there a hellhound?"

"No, Cas, I can see your wings," Sam said, pointing behind Castiel. The angel glanced over his shoulder, but his wings were still incorporeal. Sam and Dean normally wouldn't have been able to see them like this.

"Huh," Dean put his glasses on as well to take a look. "Well, I guess they work for more than just hellhounds. These could actually come in handy."

"Well, at least they work," Castiel said, relieved. He glanced up at the setting sun. "It's almost time."

They all sobered. None of them wanted to do this, but they knew they had to. And didn't that describe their lives?

The cemetery was even more eerie when they returned, the twilight setting in making it gloomy, and the thought of what they would face there, only making it worse.

"Well, I guess there's no other way to do this," Dean grunted as he got out of the car and put his glasses on, glancing out at the shadowy graveyard in front of them.

"Let's go," Sam nodded after they armed up.

They made their way as swiftly as possible across the grounds, but it was not long before the hellhounds started to make an appearance.

"Holy crap," Dean muttered as he glanced around. "Sam."

"I see them too," Sam said grimly, his hand tightening on his demon knife. Castiel could see four of the hounds so far, but knew there would be more the closer they got to the mausoleum.

"So what's the plan?" Sam asked.

"Take out as many as we can," Dean said. "Make it to the crypt. Don't die."

They could see the mausoleum in the distance, but the hounds were getting closer, growling out their warnings, and then one with a bloody eye showed up, the one Castiel had tagged earlier, and it barked a warning and that was all the incentive the other hounds needed.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, leveling his gun at the nearest hellhound and firing. Black blood spurted, but the hound still came at them.

They formed a defensive position, all three of them back to back, as they faced the attacking hounds. Castiel glanced around, seeing more pouring out of the woods. How many were there?

All three of them were slashing with their blades, and the night was peppered with the sounds of shouts, and gunfire, and the yelps of wounded and dying hellhounds.

Castiel's blade was dark with the blood of the hounds and several lay dead at his feet as they did at Sam and Dean's but there were still more coming, seemingly an endless supply, and they were getting more cautious.

"We need to make a move," Dean said, cutting out at another hound and barely missing a snap of its teeth before he kicked it in the face and drove his blade through its neck. "With the warding they may not be able to follow us into the mausoleum."

Castiel nodded and they began to move in the right direction, the three of them still back to back as the hounds came at them even more frantically now as if knowing what they had planned.

Suddenly Castiel saw a hound encroaching on Sam as he was engaged with another one.

"Sam!" He couldn't quite reach the hunter, but instinctively, he pulled his wings from the ethereal plane and used one to shove Sam out of the way.

Sam stumbled just as the hound lunged with dripping jaws that would have crippled the hunter. Instead it turned with rage toward Castiel and lashed out with its claws.

Castiel couldn't help crying out as the hounds claws tore into the underside of his wing, violently tearing several feathers out as it did so. Castiel swiftly made his wings invisible again, but the damage was already done and he staggered slightly.

"Cas?" Dean and Sam both cried.

"I'm fine, keep moving," Castiel said through gritted teeth.

They didn't have time to argue, because a whole new surge of hellhounds was making their way toward them, and Sam and Dean both leveled their guns and started firing into them.

They were at the mausoleum now, and Castiel ran up the steps to try the door.

"It's just a padlock as far as I can tell," he said.

Dean turned swiftly and shot the lock. Castiel gave it an extra strike with the butt of his blade and shoved his shoulder into the door, forcing the creaky, unused hinges to work.

"Come on!" he cried as Sam and Dean finished up several more hellhounds and turned to go into the crypt.

They never got that far though. As soon as they stepped into the mausoleum a rumbling sound started up. More hellhounds rushed them in one last effort to stop them and Sam rushed forward to deal with them.

Castiel was about to help when he felt the ground start to move under his feet.

"Oh hell," Dean breathed. They tried to get back out of the crypt, but the floor opened up, the stone crumbling under their feet and to Sam's cries of shock and horror, Dean and Castiel fell through the floor with an avalanche of rocks and were thrown into pitch darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Castiel coughed air back into his lungs, as he forced himself onto his hands and knees. Some small rocks fell off his back, but he was unharmed aside from his injured wing, which was smarting even more after the fall, even though it was still on the ethereal plane.

"Dean?" He coughed and looked around, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

A groan sounded and there was more shuffling. "Here."

Castiel crawled over to the moving shape in the dark and reached out to grip Dean's shoulder. "Dean, are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean grunted, fumbling in his pocket for a second before a flashlight flicked on. Castiel was relieved to see that while Dean sported several bruises and was covered in dirt and rock dust from the fall, he seemed otherwise unharmed. "What about you?"

"I'm fine," Castiel said.

"Your wing?" Dean asked.

Castiel pressed his lips together. "It's fine."

"Cas…" Dean said warningly.

"Only a few feathers that were going to come out anyway," Castiel grunted. Dean gave an exasperated look, and yes, the pain alone made sure Castiel knew how much of a lie that had been, but they had bigger problems to worry about. Like finding a way out of here.

Dean stood and cast the flashlight beam around. "Sam's still up there with all those hellhounds," he said. "Looks like we're trapped from this way."

"But there's another opening over here," Castiel said, motioning to the opposite side of them as the wall of rubble. There seemed to be a small tunnel. "Maybe this leads to the crypt."

"And hopefully a way out," Dean said. "Let's get this over with."

They made their way down the tunnel cautiously. Castiel had no idea if Lucifer might have set traps. He could tell that his grace was completely useless down here, which was not surprising. He hoped that would be the worst thing to happen.

They came to a dead end and Dean cursed.

"Well, I guess that was a bust," he growled.

Castiel stepped forward with a frown, running his fingers over the cobwebs that had gathered. "No, I think it's a door." Just as he said that, his fingers found a small indent and he pressed. There was a grinding sound and the stone door swung open, showing a dark room ahead.

"Okay, maybe not a bust," Dean said as he stepped forward.

Everything happened at once then. The flashlight flickered out, and as Dean cursed and slapped it in an attempt to turn it back on, the flash of light illuminated a dark shape in the room.

"Dean!" Castiel shouted, surging forward, but the shape had already thrown itself at the hunter, growling furiously.

Dean gave a shout and the flashlight clattered to the ground, leaving Castiel only able to recognize the attacker from its glowing red eyes. Hellhound.

Dean had lost his glasses in the fall so he wouldn't be able to see the beast but he obviously knew what it was anyway.

"Hey!" Castiel shouted at the creature and the hound spun around and threw itself at him, bearing him to the ground. The impact jarred through Castiel's injured wing, and he grunted in pain. He somehow managed to kick it off before its teeth could fasten around his throat as he heard Dean scrambling for his blade, which he had dropped in the dark.

Castiel scrambled to his feet as the hound righted itself again, hunched low as if unsure which target to go for first. Dean was still searching for the knife in the dark, but the flashlight was on the other side of the room, the hellhound between it and them.

That was when the hound decided to make up its mind and lunged for the hunter's unprotected back.

"Dean, behind you!" Castiel cried frantically as he lunged after the beast. Dean swung his blade blindly, the glint the only thing Castiel could see in the dark as he gripped his blade, but was too afraid to hit Dean if he threw it. The hellhound spun around toward him, slavering jaws snapping, and Castiel staggered back.

"Come here, you bastard!" Dean growled, lashing out with the blade. The hound yelped, Dean obviously having scored a hit on its haunch, but then it snarled and swung around with a flurry of claws and teeth. Before Castiel could make a move, there was the sound of tearing flesh followed by Dean's scream of agony.

"Dean!" Castiel cried and lunged at the hound, stabbing downward into the back of its neck and hauling it away from the hunter. He stabbed it again and again until it fell completely limp to the ground and the hellfire in its eyes died away like lumps of coal.

Castiel scrambled to grab the flashlight and then hurried back over to Dean, falling to his knees beside him.

"Dean," he called worriedly.

Dean was curled on his side, his back turned to Castiel, breathing heavily. Castiel gently touched his shoulder, maneuvering him onto his back. Dean groaned; there was blood all over his shirt.

"Where are you hurt?" he demanded already peeling aside Dean's jacket.

There were tears through his shirt and Castiel lifted it cautiously. Dean hissed, his back arching, and Castiel wanted to be sick as he saw the deep furrows the hounds' claws had carved into Dean's belly.

"Son of a bitch," Dean groaned.

"It's fine, nothing vital was hit," at least there was that much, but Dean was bleeding profusely, and if Castiel couldn't stop it, the blood loss was going to be more of a danger than anything else.

Castiel swiftly yanked his coat off to get to his button-down over shirt, which he then tore into pieces, leaving one part big to use as a pad while he tied other pieces into strips to hold the pad against the wound.

He pressed the scraps over the wound and then began to tie it down. Dean groaned and grabbed his wrist. "Easy, easy," Castiel tried as Dean's head fell back limply, pain obvious in the lines of his face.

"I friggin hate hellhounds," Dean groaned. "I hate them."

"I know," Castiel said as he finished tying off the makeshift bandages. He pulled his jacket back on, stowed his blade in it and picked up the flashlight, glancing back at the door.

"Come on," he said, reaching down to ease Dean into a sitting position. "We can't stay here. We need to see if we can find a way out of here."

Dean grunted, obviously not wanting to waste breath and Castiel pulled one of Dean's arms over his shoulders to ease him up. Dean cried out in pain and practically collapsed against Castiel, but the angel kept him upright, and let Dean breathe through the pain until he could get his feet under him.

"You good?" Castiel asked.

"I'm pretty damn far from good," Dean gritted out. "But I can make it."

Castiel nodded and they started on the laborious trek back down the dark hallway, trying to see if there was something they had missed before.

They had to stop frequently, and Dean's legs continuously wanted to give out. It tore Castiel's heart out to see his friend like this, and knowing he couldn't heal him made it even worse. Dean was not doing well, that much was obvious. Blood had already completely soaked through the bandages and had started dripping down Dean's leg.

"Just a little farther," Castiel kept saying, though it was a lie. "Then you can rest."

His own wing was hurting more by the second. Without even being able to use the little grace he had left to start healing the injury, it was making his whole wing ache fiercely. But he couldn't think of himself right now. He might be in pain, but he wasn't bleeding out.

He heard something from up ahead then, something that sounded like muffled footsteps. He stopped, cautious, pulling his angel blade from his coat. Dean groaned as Castiel shined the flashlight around.

"What is it?" Dean slurred.

"Someone, or something is here," Castiel said grimly. He moved closer to the wall and carefully lowered Dean down, propping him against it so he could have both hands to defend them.

There was a creak and another passage opened in the wall ahead. Castiel held his breath, his blade held at the ready as a lantern appeared, followed by an all too familiar figure.

"Well, well, well, fancy seeing you here."

Castiel raised his blade and glowered at the figure. "Crowley."

The demon smirked, holding the lantern up, a box tucked under one arm. Castiel glanced at it curiously, seeing angel warding on it.

"I have to thank you for being a nice distraction," Crowley said. "You found the trick entrance and broke the warding, so I was able to find the good one while you were playing with my hounds." He glanced over at Dean, tsking slightly. "Not looking so good there, Squirrel. You may want to get that looked at."

"What do you want here?" Castiel demanded.

"Oh, I already got what I wanted," Crowley said, indicating the box he held under his arm. "And wouldn't you like to know what it is. Lucifer had some _very_ interesting items in his collection."

Castiel strode forward, angel blade raised. "I have been waiting for an opportunity to kill you."

"Can we take a rain check on that, darling?" Crowley asked and waved a hand. Castiel was flung backwards, almost crashing into Dean as he was pinned to the wall. The pressure on his back sent fiery jolts through his wing and he bit back a cry. "Sorry, but I have urgent business right now. Hope to see you later though, if you don't die down here."

Castiel struggled, furious that Crowley was somehow able to use powers down here when he couldn't and watched helplessly as the demon strode off down the hallway.

"Crowley!" he growled, but the demon flicked a hand and the door closed behind him.

Castiel slumped to the ground, gasping from the pain in his wing, and glanced at Dean who was watching the exchange from under half closed eyelids.

"Guess he won this time," the hunter said bitterly.

"Not for long," Castiel said. "We just have to find a way out of here."

But that seemed like it was going to be easier said than done.

* * *

 _Sam watched in horror_ as Dean and Cas disappeared through the floor of the mausoleum, but he didn't have much time to worry about them because the hellhounds were encroaching on him, hunkered low, and growling. He raised his gun and shot the nearest ones until the dreaded clicking came out of the weapon telling him he had gone through his clip already. Sam cursed as the next hellhound lunged at him and he crouched to meet it with his demon blade. The hound yelped and collapsed as Sam yanked the blade free.

But he couldn't keep this up, not alone, and more hounds were coming toward him.

Sam finally took the chance and turned his back, rushing the last few feet into the mausoleum and yanking the door closed behind him. It was a close thing, the hounds snapping at his heels, but he did it, and once inside, he yanked his bag from his shoulder and pulled out a can of salt, which he then spread in front of the door in case the warding wasn't enough.

He took several deep breaths then and scrambled for a flashlight. He flicked it on and shined it down into the hole Dean and Cas had fallen into, worried he might see their unconscious bodies, or worse, but all he saw were rocks and debris. Not that that was much of a comfort. Dean and Cas could have been crushed under the rocks for all he knew.

"Dean?" he called down cautiously. "Cas? Can you hear me?"

But even if they were okay, they likely wouldn't be able to hear Sam past the rocks.

Sam glanced back at the door where he could still hear the hellhounds growling, angry that they had lost their prospective chew toy. At least the warding, or at least the salt, seemed to be holding.

Sam then turned to look around the mausoleum, shining his flashlight over the ground to make sure he didn't step on another booby trap. There were all the things he expected to see; plaques telling about who was buried there, places to leave flowers and other things, but nothing to indicate another door.

Sam searched for a long time, constantly worried about Dean and Cas, but knew that the best thing he could do for them was find a way into the crypt. They were likely stuck down there, after all.

He was startled out of his search as the growls and angry barks from the hellhounds finally stopped. He spun to look at the door and swallowed hard. He thought it was probably a trap, but…

Sam cursed and strode to the door, easing it open slightly to look out.

All the hellhounds were standing around, watching as a figure emerged from behind the mausoleum. Sam would recognize that figure anywhere.

"Crowley," he snarled, and pushed the rest of the way out the door, his demon knife held at the ready.

The hellhounds growled, but Crowley held up a hand to keep them at bay.

"Sam, thought you would be dog meat by now," Crowley said cheerily.

Sam noticed a box with warding carved into it tucked under Crowley's arm and frowned. "What is that?"

Crowley smirked and patted it. "Oh, just a little something I've been wanting to get my hands on for a while. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Samantha. You should be more worried about your brother and the angel."

Sam took a step forward, ignoring the hellhounds' warning growls. "What the hell did you do to them?"

"Nothing," Crowley said with a shrug. "Didn't have to. The hound I sent in before me did most of the work. Must say, your brother's not looking too good." Sam's stomach flipped, images of Dean getting ripped apart by hellhounds flashing through his mind. "And your angel, well, he may be good at playing through an injury but, he'll be feeling his before long, I'm sure. Hellhound wounds are notorious for going septic—especially for angels."

Sam surged forward, but Crowley casually flicked his wrist and Sam was thrown backwards onto the ground. One of the hellhounds strode over to growl at him and Sam held his breath, sure it was about to rip his throat out. But Crowley whistled and the hound backed away.

"I'll leave you to your rescue," Crowley said. "But good luck getting them out in time. I've sealed all the entrances to give you a challenge. Try to find me again, and I'll let my hounds tear you a plethora of new orifices." And with that Crowley disappeared and his hounds along with him.

Sam gasped a breath, and scrambled to his feet, picking his knife up. He spun around, but the cemetery was demon free. Crowley had obviously gotten what he came there for and they had failed to stop him. Again.

Sam scrambled in his pocket for his cellphone and dialed the number he needed as he raced back into the mausoleum, frantic to find a way to save Dean and Cas.

Some relief shot though him as he heard the voice on the other line. "Bobby, I need help. Dean and Cas are in trouble."

"I'll be there as soon as possible, son," Bobby said without hesitation.

"Thank you," Sam breathed and sagged slightly before he went back to his search.

* * *

 _Castiel lost count of how many times_ they passed the same places. The tunnels seemed to go on forever or at least loop continuously, and even when they did find a new one, it always seemed to finish in a dead end. Dean was growing increasingly heavy against him, and delirious, and Castiel himself was flagging badly. The wound in his wing was a constant burn now, pulsing with agony with every step and having to support most of Dean's weight didn't help.

Finally when they got to a small antechamber, Dean groaned and pawed at Castiel's arm. "Okay, okay, I—I gotta stop."

Castiel's heart clenched at the pain and exhaustion in Dean's voice but he had to admit he was also a bit relieved. He needed to rest too, and at this point getting even more lost in the confusing tunnels under the mausoleum was pointless.

He helped lower the hunter down and Dean practically collapsed against the wall, eyes closed, one hand weakly clutching at his wound.

Castiel settled heavily beside him, hunching against the pain in his wing. He refrained from turning his wings corporeal to check it. Dean was wounded far worse than he was and he didn't want the hunter to worry about him in his condition.

"Let me look at it," he said, turning back to Dean and reaching for the makeshift bandage.

Dean shifted away from him. "Not gonna make it any better," he murmured.

Castiel bit his lip but knew he was right. In fact, it was probably best to keep the bandage in place until they could get Dean patched up properly. Not that the wound had had time to close. Castiel was sick just looking at the amount of blood that had soaked into Dean's shirt and jeans from the wound.

"All right, but just try to rest, Dean," Castiel said. "We'll find a way out of here. Sam will be looking for us."

"If he hasn't been turned into hellhound chow," Dean said wearily.

"You know Sam's better than that," Castiel said a little sharply, trying to keep some of Dean's hope alive, but he was obviously just as worried about the younger Winchester. Yes, Sam was an experienced warrior, but so were all of them, and look at what had happened.

Dean murmured something unintelligible, and his eyes finally slid completely shut. It didn't take long for him to go limp, sliding down the wall until his body was resting heavily against Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel worriedly reached out to feel the pulse in Dean's neck. It was weak, slightly thready, and worse, Dean's skin was clammy to the touch. He swallowed hard. He had to get Dean out of there and soon.

But even as he thought that, Castiel truly started to feel the heaviness in his own body as if stopping for even a second had caused it to completely give up what fight he had left. The ache from his wing had moved through his back and was slowly encroaching upon the rest of his body. A dull ache that sent a full body weariness through him.

He was suddenly unable to keep his own eyes open, even though he knew he should stay awake and watch over Dean.

He fought against the exhaustion for a while, but he finally lost the struggle and slumped against the wall, giving in to the oblivion that came to claim him.

* * *

 _Sam didn't know what to do_ while he waited for Bobby. The older hunter wouldn't be there for several hours and Sam didn't know how long Dean and Cas had. Crowley might have been exaggerating their condition to get at him, but if they were both hurt badly, then he needed to get them out of there now.

He searched the mausoleum with his flashlight, but only found a back entrance that was sealed completely shut with no way of opening.

Sam cursed, and decided that the only way to get to Dean and Cas was the way they had gotten in.

So he went back to the main entrance of the crypt and carefully lowered himself into the hole where he began to move the rocks that blocked off the entrance.

It was slow and exhausting work and Sam felt like he was getting nowhere. He finally paused, out of breath, and hauled himself back up out of the hole to find some water in the Impala before he got back to work.

As he was heading to the parking lot, he realized the sun was almost up. They had been out here all night and Dean and Cas were still stuck down that hole.

But a pair of headlights could be seen, and a familiar truck pulled up next to the Impala, Bobby getting out a second later.

"Bobby!" Sam cried in relief.

"What's going on, Sam?" Bobby asked as he came to join the younger man, clasping him on the shoulder. "Where are Dean and Cas?"

Sam swallowed hard. "They're still stuck in the crypt. I've been trying to dig them out, but it's slow going."

"Well, you have another pair of hands now, so let's get to it."

Sam gratefully hurried back to the crypt with Bobby on his heels and together they continued the laborious work of moving the broken pieces of floor away from the tunnel. It was a lot easier with two people since some of the pieces had been too heavy for Sam to lift alone, but it still left them both exhausted, backs aching.

Finally, though, the rest of the rocks simply crumbled and Sam kicked at them to push the rest through. He gave a sigh of relief as he saw the tunnel was cleared.

"Balls," Bobby gasped out, grabbing his lower back. "I'm getting way too old for this."

Sam's back and shoulders were aching too, but he surged forward into the tunnel, flashlight pointed directly ahead.

"Dean? Cas?" he cried.

There were no answers and he looked over at Bobby as the older man met his gaze. Sam tightened his jaw, and pressed on, hoping they weren't too late.

* * *

 _Castiel slowly pulled himself_ out of slumber and startled when he didn't immediately recognize his surroundings. The flashlight had fallen out of his hand, but it was thankfully still on, and he snatched it up to cast around with a shaking hand, fearful of seeing something moving in the shadows.

But there was nothing there and he breathed a sigh of relief. He shifted then stopped as he felt the weight against his side, and looked down at Dean who was completely unconscious. Castiel frantically felt for a pulse, but didn't really need to because the hunter's labored breaths were enough to tell him he was thankfully still alive.

Castiel slumped back against the wall, his head tipped backward. His body ached and he felt chilled. It almost felt like fever coursing through him, but he knew he couldn't give up now. Dean needed help, and he had to get him out of here if he had to carry the hunter himself.

He just wasn't sure he would be able to do it.

"Dean? Cas?"

The faint voice came from down the tunnel and Castiel thought for a moment that he was hallucinating. But then the voices got louder, and as he glanced over down the hallway, he saw a flash of light.

He let out a breath of relief. "Here!" he tried to cry out, but it came out as little more than a croak. He licked his lips and tried again. "We're here!"

"Cas?" The light swept in their direction and footsteps started running toward them. Soon, Sam appeared around the corner, Bobby close on his heels, and Castiel slumped in relief.

"Cas! Thank God," Sam cried as he hurried the last few steps to them.

Castiel shifted, getting his knees under him even though it was an effort, as he slipped an arm under Dean's shoulders in preparation to get him on his feet. "Dean's hurt badly. He's lost a lot of blood."

Sam swallowed hard as he took in his brother's pallor and comatose state, but he took action quickly. "Help me, Bobby."

Bobby was already there, helping Sam heave Dean to his feet. The hunter simply slumped limply and Bobby cursed.

"I got him, it's okay," Sam said, and grunted as he positioned Dean and then hefted him over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. "You help Cas."

"I'm fine," Castiel tried to protest, though getting to his feet took a herculean effort, which Bobby obviously noticed because he gave the angel a longsuffering look and gripped his arm tightly.

"Come on, let's get you both out of here," the old hunter said gruffly. "Dean's gonna need some patching up pronto."

Thankfully, they weren't that far from the place Castiel and Dean had fallen through. Sam and Bobby appeared to have simply opened the way again and Castiel went up first at Bobby's urging, using some of the debris to climb up. That nearly left him gasping for breath as the motion caused his wing to shift painfully. It was on fire now, but he was determined to see Dean taken care of before himself.

Bobby came up next and eyed him. "You okay, son?"

Castiel simply nodded, too out of breath to trust his voice and they both turned and held out their hands below to help lift Dean from Sam's shoulders.

It was not an easy maneuver, and Castiel was glad Dean was unconscious for it as it probably would have been extremely painful, but they got him up, and Castiel cradled his upper body in his lap as Sam hauled himself up the side.

"Let's get out of here," he said.

Sam and Bobby carried Dean to the Impala and settled him into the backseat. Castiel went to throw the duffle bags of weapons into the trunk. Once there, Castiel paused, taking a moment to lean against the trunk of the Impala to steady himself. He was all of a sudden very dizzy.

"You okay son?" Bobby asked for the second time, concern in his voice, as he and reached out to put a cautious hand on his back.

"Fine," Castiel said, trying to sound reassuring. He took several deep breaths as he closed the trunk. "The warding down there knocked out my grace, it's finally coming back."

Bobby didn't look entirely convinced, but he glanced over at Sam as the younger brother closed the back door, having gotten Dean settled.

"I saw a hospital about five miles away on my drive in," Bobby told them. "I think Dean needs more help than what we can give him right now."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Castiel fought back another wave of dizziness as he hurried to the passenger door and slid into the front seat next to Sam as Bobby took the lead in his truck. Castiel winced as he sat and positioned himself so that his back didn't brush the seat. His injured wing was making his whole back ache.

He canted his head to look at Dean in the backseat. His friend was pale and limp, looking even worse in the daylight than he had in the tunnels. Castiel swallowed hard. Dean needed help now; once he was safely in the hospital, then he would worry about his wing.

Until then he was more worried about Dean even making it the rest of the way to the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

**And here is the last chapter of this, this has all the H/C in it, I'm sure you've all been looking forward to ;) Thanks to everyone for reading this one and following this series!**

Chapter Three

The hospital was quiet this early in the morning and thankfully, they were the only ones in the emergency room when Sam pulled the Impala up to the doors and hurried inside to call for help.

Castiel slowly got out of the car, watching anxiously as the doctors hurried out to lift Dean onto a stretcher.

Bobby came over and held out a hand to Sam. "Give me the keys. I'll park the car. You two go in and make sure Dean's situated."

Sam nodded and handed the keys over before casting a worried look at Castiel. The angel put a hand on his shoulder firmly and drew Sam inside, following the doctors who were currently wheeling Dean into the hospital.

They took him to one of the makeshift emergency room wards, only a bed surrounded by curtains, and Sam and Dean tried to stay out of the way as they started cutting away Dean's clothes and the makeshift bandages.

"What happened?" one of the doctors came up to Sam.

"He was attacked by some kind of animal," Sam said. "We think it might have been whatever has been attacking people in town."

"You didn't see it?" the doctor asked.

Sam and Castiel turned to each other and shook their heads. "No," Castiel added. "We…went to look for Dean when he didn't show up and found him like that."

"He went jogging," Sam added.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Castiel added worriedly, before the doctors had too many questions about their made up story.

The doctor gave them a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, we'll get him taken care of. Is there anything we should know? Allergies? Blood type?"

As Sam talked to the doctor, Dean suddenly shuddered and moaned, jerking as his wound was revealed to the air. His eyes flew open, fear obvious in them.

"Cas?" he slurred. "Sammy?"

Castiel rushed forward, ignoring a doctor's warning, and grabbed Dean's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he leaned over him. "Dean, it's okay, you're at a hospital."

"We're all here," Sam was at Castiel's back, offering further assurance, settling a hand on Dean knee. Dean glanced between them and finally settled back on the bed, his eyes sliding shut.

"Okay, we're going to have to ask you to step out, now, while we see to your brother," the doctor said firmly, but not unkindly. Sam and Castiel stepped back out into the hallway reluctantly, and the doctor tugged the curtain back into place.

They made their way back down to the small ER waiting room to wait for Bobby. Castiel slumped into one of the chairs. It was uncomfortable, and even more so because his body ached and the air conditioning wasn't helping the fact that he had been chilled on and off for the last little while. Sam seemed to notice him shivering slightly and got up to get two cups of coffee from a vending machine.

"Here," he said, handing one to Castiel who took it gratefully. It wasn't very good, but the warmth made him feel a little better.

"Dean will be all right," Castiel assured him after a long moment, partly for himself.

Sam looked down at the coffee in his hands but nodded. "I know. He's had worse. It's just…"

Castiel nodded, not needing Sam to finish. He knew hellhounds were a touchy subject for both brothers. For Dean, because he had been torn apart and dragged to hell, and for Sam because he'd seen it happen. Castiel knew how bad it had been too; after all, he had been the one to put Dean back together when he'd raised his soul from Perdition.

But he knew Dean would recover from this. He just needed some stitches and a blood transfusion, and he would be fine.

Bobby came back in and sat down wearily across from them. "How is he?"

Sam shrugged. "Doctors are taking care of him. But he's stable, so it's not as bad as it could be."

Bobby snorted wryly, shaking his head. "You idjits are going to be the death of me, I swear."

Sam smiled slightly and they sat in silence, sipping the rest of the coffee until the doctor came back.

All three of them were on their feet as he smiled reassuringly. "Your brother will be fine. We stitched him up and are starting the transfusion. We'll be monitoring the wound for infection, but since there's no signs of any yet, we're hopeful we won't have to deal with that."

"Can we see him?" Sam asked.

"I'd prefer you wait a little," the doctor encouraged. "He's resting right now anyway. Once the transfusion is finished, we'll move him to a room and then you can sit with him if you want."

Sam looked a little put out, but nodded reluctantly.

"I have some rounds to finish, but I will keep you up to date," the doctor told them before he went back through the doors to the ER.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Look, it will probably be a while before they let you see Dean. Why don't you two go back to your motel room and clean up a little? I'll stay here and do the paperwork."

Sam sighed and surprised Castiel with a nod of acquiescence. "Okay. But call us if he wakes up."

Bobby smiled with fond exasperation. "I will, son."

Castiel followed Sam out of the hospital to where Bobby had parked the Impala and stumbled slightly as another dizzy spell came over him, worse than before. This time it was accompanied by a cold sweat and a sick feeling in his stomach. He gasped for breath and pressed a hand to his forehead.

"Cas?" Sam asked with concern, one hand gripping his elbow. "Hey, you good?"

Castiel shook his head. "I…yes, I'm fine."

He pulled away from Sam to head toward the Impala, but stumbled against the hood as vertigo overtook him. He heard Sam calling him and the younger Winchester threw an arm around his back to steady him.

But that seemed to be the last straw because even the slight pressure of Sam's arm on his back sent a fresh wave of pain through his injured wing and he gasped, as the dizziness multiplied tenfold and it was all he could do to keep his feet. He collapsed against Sam as the darkness took him.

* * *

 _Sam watched in shock_ as Cas gasped in pain and collapsed the second he went to help him. He barely caught the angel in time to keep him from hitting the asphalt. "Cas?" he cried as he shifted to prop the angel against the hood of the Impala so he could look him over. Had they missed some injury? Cas had blood on his clothes, but Sam had assumed it was Dean's. He laid Cas against the hood to check as he grabbed his phone and called Bobby to quickly meet him in the parking lot.

Sam tugged Cas' shirt up but didn't see any injuries on his chest or back. Just a few scrapes and bruises, probably from the fall, but none that would warrant a collapse. None of them were big enough to tell of internal bleeding.

He reached out to run his fingers through Cas' hair to see if he'd hit his head, but there weren't any lumps. The only thing odd was that the angel felt warm. Actually, through the grime on his face, Sam could see red patches across his cheeks and as he placed a hand more deliberately against his forehead Cas did seem inordinately warm. A fever then?

"Sam? What the hell is going on?"

Sam turned helplessly to see Bobby hurrying toward them, frowning at Cas sprawled unconscious on the Impala's hood.

"I don't know! He looks like he got kind of dizzy and then he just collapsed," Sam said frantically. "As far as I can tell he's not injured. He just as a fever."

Bobby pressed the back of his hand against Cas' forehead with a furrowed brow. "Well, he did get a fever the last time he was molting. Maybe he overtaxed himself."

"Wait…"Sam said, suddenly, the molting comment bringing to mind the brief image during the fight against the hellhounds of Cas' feathers littering the ground. "Cas' wing was injured during the fight with the hellhounds!" Sam cried, beating himself up for not remembering that with the urgency of getting Dean to the hospital. "He turned them invisible before I could see how bad it was, and I completely forgot."

"Well, how the hell are we supposed to fix that if his wings are incorporeal?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know," Sam said, then had another epiphany. "But I think I can tell how bad it is at least." He fumbled in his jacket pockets for the glasses and pulled them out. He put them on and gasped as Cas' wings came into view.

Sam saw the problem spot instantly. The glasses revealed the slightly shimmering tendrils of grace flowing through Cas' feathers, and there was one spot where the grace looked fractured, fizzley, for want of a better word. As Sam studied it closer, he could see clots of blood, and missing and broken feathers. It had likely gotten infected, which was why Cas was suffering from a fever.

Cas shivered as Sam took the glasses off and handed them to Bobby. The older hunter's mouth fell open as he saw the damage.

"Balls! Well, we need to figure out how to fix this up. It certainly doesn't look good."

"First I'm going to get him back to the motel where he'll be comfortable," Sam said, moving to open the back door of the Impala. "Then I'll see if I can wake him up long enough to make his wings corporeal."

Bobby helped him get Cas into the backseat and then stood back, slightly hesitant.

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" he asked.

Sam shook his head. "No, stay here with Dean. You know how much he hates being in hospitals alone, and after being attacked by a hellhound…" He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. "He's probably going to be having some nightmares. I'll get Cas taken care of."

Bobby nodded. "All right. Call me if you need anything."

Sam nodded and Bobby went back to the ER while Sam got into the driver's seat, driving back to the motel.

The motel wasn't far, thankfully, and Sam was able to get Cas inside without anyone noticing, carefully laying him down on one of the beds.

Sam stood back, hands on his hips as he wondered what to do. Well, first things first, Cas had a fever so he'd start there.

He went to the bathroom and grabbed several wet cloths before returning to Cas and removing his shirt and jacket as gently as possible. He then washed the grime off of him and placed one of the cloths over his forehead to try and ease the fever. Cas shifted slightly and for a moment, Sam hoped he would wake, but he didn't.

"Cas, come on, man," Sam pleaded, jostling his shoulder slightly. "I need you to wake up. Just for a couple minutes."

But the angel didn't seem to want to comply. With a sigh, Sam pulled a light sheet over Cas and then pulled out his phone, dialing Bobby.

"Sam, you good?" the older hunter asked the instant he picked up the phone.

"Yeah, we're back at the motel, but I can't get Cas to wake up and I don't know how to get his wings corporeal otherwise."

Bobby was silent for a while. "Maybe a spell of revelation or manifestation?"

Sam's face twisted slightly with the thought. "Yeah, I thought of that, but, I don't know, I just feel weird about doing it without his consent."

"Well, would you rather that infection spread?" Bobby asked. "Because he's gonna be a hell of a lot worse off the longer you wait to do anything. And you know he trusts you boys. He'll understand."

Sam sighed but nodded. "You're right. What do I need?"

"Do you have any of Cas' feathers lying around?"

"Yeah, there's probably a couple running around the Impala since he's molting," Sam said with some fondness. Bobby's house was certainly littered with them.

"Good. Find one, and add it to the spell. You'll also need these ingredients."

Bobby listed several ingredients Sam knew they had in the trunk and he thanked the hunter.

"How's Dean?"

"He's still resting, but the transfusion is finished. They're going to move him to a room soon."

Sam nodded. "Okay, just keep me up to date."

"You too," Bobby said firmly and ended the call.

Sam went to gather the stuff from the Impala, finding one of Cas' feathers stuck in the crack of the backseat. He went back to the room and set the ingredients on a small table with a bowl. He mixed them up and then brought them over to Cas' side. He placed his feather carefully in the bowl and then pulled out a match.

He chanted the short incantation and dropped the match in the bowl. It flared slightly and Sam watched cautiously.

At first it didn't seem like anything was happening, but then, the air around Cas started to shimmer and then it formed into fully corporeal wings, sprawled across the bed.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to move Cas' wings to a more comfortable position. He knew lying on his back wasn't ideal for Cas when he had his wings out, but the wound was on the underside and this would be easier for Sam to see it.

He gently folded Cas' uninjured wing, and scooted the angel toward that side of the bed so he could have more room to spread his other wing out.

On this plane, the wound looked so much worse. Cas' wings looked a little ragged anyway, due to the molting, but now there was a huge gap where the hellhound had ripped several flight feathers out that weren't supposed to come out yet, and also clawed into the flesh beneath the feathers.

Sam carefully pushed back some of the surrounding feathers to see the wound and swallowed back sudden nausea. Just touching it had started the wound eeking out puss; obviously the cause of Cas' fever. Some of the feathers had been cut off and the shafts were still attached, only being shoved further into the wound and agitating it. It looked agonizing, and Sam wondered how Cas had stayed on his feet as long as he had. But he also knew how stubborn the angel was, and with Dean hurt as bad as he was, of course Cas wouldn't say anything about his own injury.

Sam huffed and shook his frustrated anger off. One of these days they would teach Cas how to take care of himself, but then, he supposed they all needed a lesson or two in that.

Best to get to work then. Sam had already brought the first aid kit in and he laid out the things he would need on the opposite bed. First off, he would need to get the broken quills out, that way he could properly drain and clean the wound.

This was the part he hated most. They'd had to take several of Cas' feathers out before and he knew how agonizing it was. And on top of an infected wound, it was going to be even worse.

He took the forceps and steeled himself as he grabbed hold of one of the shafts and pulled as swiftly as possible.

Cas let out a cry and jolted on the bed. His wing spasmed and Sam had to hold it still as he swiftly went to the next one. Cas screamed and began to thrash against him.

"Hold on, just one more," Sam murmured, rubbing Cas' shoulder for a second before he steeled himself and yanked the final shaft out, throwing the forceps onto the side table and reaching out to grip Cas' shoulders in an attempt to calm him as he let out another agonized scream. "You're okay, Cas, just relax. I'm just cleaning your wound."

Cas whimpered, his eyes flickering. "S'm?"

Sam smiled, leaning over him. "I'm here, just getting you patched up." He took the warm cloth from Cas' forehead and replaced it with a fresh one. The coolness seemed to soothe the angel a little and he relaxed against the bed again with a shuddering sigh. Sam hated seeing the lines of agony across his face, but he knew it would be better once he finished.

Taking the feathers out had started the wound bleeding afresh, and Sam wiped the blood away so he could see what he was doing. He would need to flush the wound next to make sure it was cleaned properly, and that wasn't going to be fun either.

He went to grab a towel then sat on the bed again, with the angel's wing positioned across the towel on his knees.

"Okay, buddy, this isn't going to be fun," he warned and took a wad of gauze before pressing on the wound.

Cas jerked and screamed again, but Sam continued until only blood flowed out. It was even harder to do with no one to help hold Cas down. He could barely see what he was doing due to the angel's thrashing.

"Almost done," he murmured, and turned back to the bag.

He was going to just clean it with alcohol, but then had another thought. It was a hellhound wound so maybe….maybe he should use holy water instead.

In the end, he decided to use both. He used the alcohol first and then used the holy water.

Cas had shuddered and jerked slightly at the use of the alcohol but when Sam poured the holy water over the wound, he was not expecting the reaction he got.

Cas screamed and the wound fizzed with sparks of grace. The angel lashed out and surged upright so that Sam had to catch him before he fell off the bed. He then held Cas tightly as he rode through the waves of agony, whimpering past clenched teeth.

"God Cas, I'm sorry," Sam kept murmuring, running a hand through the angel's hair in an attempt to soothe him. He worried for a second that he may have done something gravely wrong, but as Cas shuddered into oblivion again, a limp pile of human limbs and feathers, Sam laid him back down and checked his wing. It didn't look irreparably damaged. Hopefully it would heal properly now. Sam breathed a sigh of relief and positioned Cas more comfortably on the bed before he started to clean up the supplies.

At least this could start Cas on the road to recovery. Though with him and Dean both down for the count, it was going to be a while before they were out and about again. And with Crowley having apparently retrieved whatever it was he had been looking for in Lucifer's crypts, Sam was a little anxious about the downtime he knew they would need. They still had no idea what Crowley had been looking for and why. He just hoped it didn't turn out to be some doomsday machine.

Cas moaned and snapped Sam back to the present again. They would find Crowley and stop him eventually. Right now he had two wounded brothers he was going to have to take care of.

* * *

 _He was running through the woods, hot breath on his back. The unearthly growls behind him rumbled through his chest, nearly drowned out by the pounding of blood in his ears and his gasping breaths._

 _He tripped, falling on the ground hard. He reached for a weapon, but whatever he'd had must have been lost in his mad dash. He now had nothing to defend himself._

 _He turned over just in time to see the glowing red eyes and the slavering jaws as the hellhounds bore down on him._

 _Dean screamed as claws tore into his flesh…_

* * *

 _Dean woke up with a gasp._ His breath caught in his throat and there was a constant beeping nearby. As he came back to reality, he instantly knew he was in a hospital. He thought he had woken a couple times previously, but had been too delirious to really make sense of his surroundings other than seeing Sam and Cas and then later Bobby there, so he knew he was safe. Now though, the buzz from whatever drug they had him on was wearing off and he could think more clearly.

And dream. Dean shuddered at the memory of the hellhounds ripping into him. That was never an easy one to shake.

He glanced over and saw his lanky little brother dozing uncomfortably in a chair by his bed.

"Sammy?" he murmured.

Sam's eyes shot open and he rubbed them briskly as he instantly leaned over toward the bed. "Hey, how are you doing?"

Dean gave a short shrug. "Guess I'm okay. How long I been here?"

"You've been out for about twenty hours," Sam told him.

"Damn," Dean groaned. He felt like it, and yet his body was currently wanting to pull him under again. "When can I get out of here?"

Sam smirked. "Doc says this afternoon if you don't take a turn for the worst."

"Awesome," Dean said, shifting slightly and wincing as he felt the familiar pull of stitches across his stomach. Damn hellhounds.

"Where's Cas?" he asked, noticing the angel wasn't there.

A small furrow appeared between Sam's brows. "He's back at the motel. When he got tagged by that hellhound his wound got infected."

"Dammit," Dean muttered. "He okay?"

"I cleaned the wound but he's still got a fever," Sam said and the continued furrow in his brow told Dean that he was worried. "Bobby's with him right now."

"I asked him if he was okay down there," Dean muttered.

Sam smiled wryly. "And you know Cas. He wouldn't admit how much he was hurting until we got you here. Even then it took him collapsing for me to find out."

"That stubborn son of a bitch," Dean muttered. "Best we get out of here sooner rather than later then. He should be home resting."

"And so should you," Sam replied firmly and reached over to press the button to give Dean more morphine. He wanted to protest, but the nagging ache in his stomach numbed and he felt himself slipping off again. "I promise we'll get you out later."

Dean murmured something unintelligible and let his heavy eyelids slide shut.

* * *

 _It was late that night_ by the time they got back to Sioux Falls and Sam could feel the exhaustion dragging at him. He barely made it with Dean sleeping in the backseat of the Impala. Bobby had taken Cas with him since there was more room in his vehicle for Cas' wings and the angel still hadn't woken up, which worried Sam.

Once he and Bobby got Dean situated in his room, still sleeping off the effects of the painkillers, they did the same for Cas. Sam went to get more wet cloths as Bobby gave the angel a onceover.

"I don't know what's going on with him," he said. "You cleaned the wound, and it doesn't seem to be leaking puss anymore, but his fever's only getting worse."

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line as he bathed Cas' neck and chest with the cloths, trying to cool him off. He hadn't even woken long enough to give him Tylenol to help with the fever. "It may just be because his immune system is extremely susceptible during a molt. I mean, last time, he caught a cold, and then he had another one when he just got chilled."

"Possibly," Bobby mused. "Though he was in much better health this time around."

"But with the infection already…" Sam added with a helpless shrug.

"We'll get him back to health just like last time," Bobby assured him. "If he doesn't wake up soon we'll set up an IV to keep him hydrated too."

Sam nodded and Bobby left to go see to business. Sam sighed heavily as he dragged a chair over to Cas' bedside. He hated seeing Cas go through all these setbacks. It seemed like every time he was getting better something else came along and knocked him down again. It had only been a month since Crowley had captured and tortured him; Cas still hadn't gotten over the nightmares from that. And yeah, Sam knew that was kind of just par for the course with their lives, but it seemed like Cas was just really taking all the hits lately.

At least he was with them, though, and not off somewhere alone licking his wounds. He was at least letting them take care of him and that was progress in itself.

"Still," Sam spoke out loud to the unconscious angel. "You gotta get better, Cas."

He sighed, leaned back in the chair and tried to sleep a little.

* * *

 _Dean sat worriedly by Cas' bedside_. He'd refused to stay in bed another day, especially when their angel had taken a turn for the worse, so Sam had brought a Cas' comfortable reading chair over to the side of the bed and Dean was currently sitting there, watching Cas seemingly fade away.

They had been back for three days now and the only change in Cas had been that his fever had gotten higher. He hadn't woken up and even though Bobby had set up an IV to keep him hydrated, he still looked terrible. His face had started to get the gaunt look it had when he'd been sick after his return from Hell. Dean knew how important it was to keep Cas' nutrition up when he was molting, and since he hadn't been able to eat, he could see the ill effect it was having on him. His skin was sallow and his feathers were turning dull and Dean was furious because it looked like all the progress they had made was slowly eking away, returning Cas to the broken shell of himself he had been before his feathers had all grown back and he had started flying again.

Dean ran a hand over his face wearily, and winced slightly as he reached to replace the cloth on Cas' forehead with a fresh one.

The door opened quietly and Sam came in with a plate in his hand.

"Still no change?" he asked.

Dean shook his head and Sam set the plate on the side table. "I made you lunch."

"Thanks," Dean muttered. He wasn't hungry, but he would try to eat anyway so Sam wouldn't worry about him too. He was already fussing over him too much as it was, when they needed to be worried about Cas. Dean just had a few stitches in his gut—he'd heal well enough in time. Cas shouldn't have been any different, and yet…here he was unconscious in bed again. Dean felt like a terrible older brother.

Sam bent over the angel and checked his temperature with the back of his hand on Cas' cheek.

Cas stirred then and whimpered slightly, his eyes moving wildly under his lids. What was even worse was that he seemed to be constantly suffering from nightmares that he couldn't wake from. Dean subconsciously reached out to run his fingers through Cas' feathers, putting the ones that were mussed from the bed back into more semblance. This action at least seemed to soothe Cas so Dean was happy to do it.

Several of his feathers fell out to join others on the floor, and Dean sighed. He wondered if Cas would ever go through a freaking normal molt.

Cas jerked suddenly then, and Dean frowned before he realized he had gotten too close to the wound on Cas' wing. He hadn't realized it was still that sensitive.

He carefully dislodged several of Cas' coverts that were about to come out so he could see the wound better. Even that light touch sent a shudder through Cas and the angel moaned. Dean leaned closer, inspecting the wound when his fingers found some odd swelling. Upon further inspection, Dean felt something hard underneath the swollen area.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

Dean prodded the area again and Cas let out a whimper, trying to curl his wing away from Dean.

"Stop," Sam nearly pleaded, settling a hand on Cas' shoulder.

"There's still something here, in the wound," Dean told him, pressing the feathers aside to reveal the skin underneath, and yeah, there was definitely a lump there and the skin around it looked red and irritated.

Sam was crouching down next to him. "What is that?" he asked.

Dean continued inspecting the area, and then glanced at the gap in Cas' feathers. "How many quills did you pull?"

"Three," Sam said, looking at what Dean was seeing then. Sam gasped suddenly. "Oh god, you don't think one could still be stuck in there."

Dean pinched the wound firmly and Cas gave a low keen, but the very end of a broken quill poked from the wound along with more puss.

"Shit," Sam ground out, running a hand over his face. "I thought I got them all."

"I think this one got impacted, maybe in the fall or because Cas took so long to tell us what happened," Dean said, glancing up at his little brother's distressed face. "Not your fault, Sammy."

Sam just shook his head and hurried to get the first aid kit. Dean took it and pulled Cas' wing across his lap as Sam sat on the bed to soothe the angel.

It was a swift operation, but not one Dean wanted to repeat. He tried to block the sound of Cas' screams out as he cut the broken shaft from the wound and then had to cut it to drain it thoroughly, squeezing until only blood ran out. He finished it off with peroxide to clean it and an extra dose of holy water just in case.

Cas was shuddering by then, and Bobby, who had been outside, came in with a frown.

"What the hell is going on in here?" he demanded. "All I can hear is Cas shouting."

"We found out what was wrong," Dean said. "Impacted quill in the wound."

"Balls," Bobby breathed as he came over for a closer look.

Sam helped Dean clean up and then situated Cas as comfortably as possible in the bed. "Hopefully that will be the end of his fever."

"Well, since we found the cause of the infection, probably," Dean said, feeling exhausted himself already. "We'll keep an eye on it."

"You need to rest," Sam said then, looking at Dean pointedly. "I'll watch over Cas for a while."

Dean looked hesitant, but Sam hardened his look, joined by Bobby and the elder brother rolled his eyes. "Fine. But tell me if he wakes up."

Sam nodded and gave Dean a hand up so he could shuffle slowly back down the hall to his own room. Dean gritted his teeth as his own weakness. Having a million stitches across his middle was not at all fun; they seemed to pull every time he moved. He slumped carefully onto his bed and closed his eyes, folding his elbow over them. One of these days, they needed to teach Cas how to take care of himself better.

* * *

 _Castiel woke slowly,_ becoming more and more aware of his surroundings as he did. He could tell he was somewhere comfortable as his heavy body was pleasantly cushioned, and as he became more aware, he could detect the smells and familiar sounds of Bobby's house. Home. He was home.

That thought more than anything caused him to open his eyes, drawing in a sharp breath of relief as he saw he had been right. He was lying in his own bed, sunlight seeping through the window where someone had opened the drapes, sending warm beams across his bed.

He shifted, realizing his wings were corporeal and were awkwardly sprawled out on either side of him as he lay on his back.

"Whoa, easy. Cas?"

The voice and the accompanying hand on his shoulder to keep him still finally alerted Castiel to the other presence in the room.

He turned to see Dean sitting in his reading chair that had been pulled over to the side of the bed. The hunter looked a little pale himself, and hunched carefully to one side as he leaned over the bed, but he was there, and he was okay.

"Dean?" Castiel breathed. "Are you all right?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Am _I_ all right?" he demanded. "Dude, I was fine after I got some blood in me and a few stitches. You're the one who scared us to death when you passed out at the hospital and then had a high fever for days that wouldn't break."

Castiel frowned. "I don't…the last thing I remember was the hospital."

"Yeah, because this is the first time you've been lucid since then. Your wing was infected, man! Sam took some of the broken quills out originally, but we missed one that had gotten impacted. I just found it last night and thankfully your fever finally broke early this morning."

Castiel frowned deeper, taken aback. "I didn't realize it had been so long."

"You told me it wasn't that bad. Just a few feathers that were going to come out anyway. I didn't even know you were bleeding."

"It wasn't bad compared to _your_ wound, Dean!" Castiel retorted in exasperation, attempting to prop himself up on an elbow. "You were the one bleeding out!"

"That's not my point! The point is that even when you got me to the hospital, it took you passing out in the parking lot for Sam to even know how badly you were hurt, or hurt at all! If you'd told him while you were still conscious he probably would have been able to find that fourth broken quill and you wouldn't have been nearly as bad off."

Castiel huffed a short sigh, feeling some annoyance. "Were you waiting this whole time for me to wake up just to yell at me? What did you want me to say?"

"I just wanted you to be straight with me, or at least Sam and Bobby!" Dean said. "Cas, you…you gotta stop this self-sacrificing crap. Especially when it doesn't make sense. I get you had to help me out of there, and I'm grateful, I am. You probably saved my life—again. But you're not the only one who's job it is to do that! How many times have I told you you're not a burden! You're allowed to be hurt, Cas, dammit! You're allowed to admit it! This isn't Heaven where you're not allowed to show anything and everything you feel is a weakness!"

Castiel didn't know what to reply to that. Yes, he had finally come to terms with himself that he wasn't a burden to the Winchesters, but maybe Dean was right, maybe he was hardwired not to show weakness even against his better judgment.

"I'm sorry I worried you," Castiel finally said. "It wasn't fair in your condition."

Dean's jaw tightened and he clenched his hand into a fist, placing it on the bed beside Castiel's shoulder. "It's not about me and my condition," he said firmly but more gently than before. "We were worried because we couldn't figure out what was wrong, and when your fever just wouldn't break, we thought there was a possibility that we could lose you. I mean, you're molting. Last time you got laid out for a week with a simple cold, and this was…" he shook his head. "Look, I know we live dangerous lives. Crap is gonna happen, but that's why we're here for each other. To _help_ each other. And yeah, we all need to get better at taking care of ourselves too, but that starts with honesty. If you're not doing okay you need to let someone else know. Especially when there's no other reason to keep it to yourself."

Castiel met Dean's eyes and sighed, but he nodded. Dean was right, and he was learning—or trying to. It just seemed so much easier to worry and care for other people.

The door opened then and Sam peeked in, relief washing over his face with a smile as he saw Castiel awake.

"Cas, hey!" he said, coming over to the bed. "How are you?"

"Tired," Castiel replied honestly. "But I think I am well. Or soon will be at least."

Sam helped Castiel sit up against the pillows while he went to get him a drink. He sat on the side of the bed as Castiel gratefully sipped the water. His throat had been dry. He noticed that there was an IV drip beside his bed, though he wasn't currently hooked to it. His condition really must have worried them.

"How's your wing, Cas?" Sam asked.

Castiel shifted his wings slightly and felt a twinge from the injured one. "Sore, but I can feel my grace repairing it now. Hellhound wounds are always prone to going septic, especially for angels. But now that the infection is gone, it will heal quickly." He frowned as he settled his wings more comfortably against the pillows. "I don't understand though, how did you find the infection?"

Sam shifted slightly, seeming uncomfortable. "I used the glasses to see your wings when they were incorporeal when I couldn't find any other wounds and, well, I had to use a spell to reveal them in order to tend to it. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to ask if that was okay."

Castiel smiled, genuinely touched at Sam's consideration. "You only did so in order to heal me. I would have given you permission if I could have."

Sam smiled and patted Castiel's knee lightly. "Do you want some soup or something? You're probably starving."

Castiel nodded. "I think I could manage that." He sighed as he reached over and dug his fingers into his wing where it was itching.

"Hey," Dean snapped. "I'm gonna put socks on your hands if you do that."

Castiel gave him a longsuffering look and Sam seemed to be hiding a smirk. "How about before I go make soup I help groom your wings? You've been in bed for several days and I'm sure there's a bunch more feathers that are ready to come out."

"Plus they're really dry and that's not a good thing for molting," Dean added. "As soon as that wing heals a little more you can take a shower."

"Thank you," Castiel said. "That would be helpful."

The two brothers each took one of his wings and groomed through his feathers with their fingers, dislodging the ones that were ready to come out. It cut back on the itching quite a bit, thankfully.

"Your pin feathers look like they're coming in nicely," Sam told him with a smile. "Skin looks a little irritated from the dryness, but that should be an easy fix."

"You're totally grounded though, until you're done molting," Dean grumbled slightly.

"You're grounding me?" Castiel asked incredulously.

"From hunting," Dean said. "You're on research and phone duty."

Castiel pinned him with a look. "In that case, so are you. Hunting with that many stitches in your stomach is not a good idea and you can barely groom my wings without having them pull," he added as he noticed the small winces Dean made every once in a while as he had to overreach a little.

"Not to mention the old lady walk you have to do around the house," Sam added with a small smirk.

Dean looked indignant. "I'll heal soon enough!"

Sam snorted. "No way, Dean. You're not hunting until those stitches are out. You're _both_ grounded."

Dean glared at him. "Then who's gonna hunt with you?"

"Bobby," Sam said with a smirk. "He was just saying it would be nice to get out again. And if we need help, Jody will come along."

Castiel was unable to help a smile as Dean huffed with indignation. He sobered slightly after a second though. "We still have a problem with Crowley," he said. "We don't even know what he took from the crypt."

"No, but we'll figure that out in due time," Sam said. "Right now, you two just need to worry about getting rest."

Dean rolled his eyes but didn't look completely broken up about it. "Fine, mom. I guess we're not going to be given much of a choice."

"No," Sam said cheerily as he stood up, brushing several feathers from his lap. "How about that soup now, Cas? Coffee, Dean?"

Dean nodded and Castiel folding his wings more comfortably against the copious pillows he had in his round bed. Dean was still watching him and he glanced over, meeting the hunter's worried green eyes.

"You really are okay?" he asked.

Castiel nodded. "I am now."

"Good," Dean said. "Because something tells me we're gonna have a fight ahead of us."

Castiel nodded. He had the same feeling, and he would be lying if he said it didn't make him slightly nervous.

But he also knew that he wouldn't make the same mistake as he had last time he'd gone to war. This time, he would stand beside his true friends, and as long as they were together, they could conquer anything.

* * *

 **So, as you can probably expect, there will be more to this Verse, but I'm going to take a break for a while. I'm also going to keep up with the once a week posting for a while so that I have more time to work on further stories. Next week will be a one shot and then after that I will start posting the sequel to "Worth Fighting For" so get ready for Megstiel feels :)**


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